Bombshell
by Once Upon a Whim
Summary: Wyatt drops one of his own in 1941. [Wyatt/Lucy, based on promos and premiere date press release. No other spoilers.]


**I'm not spoiled at all, so no spoilers here aside from the promos and the initial press release regarding the premiere date. I think we can all agree that the promo kiss is just…** ** _awesome*_** **. Throw in that I just saw a great documentary (I stole its name for the fic's name – go check it out), and you get this. I know that others have already tackled the new 'kiss-spec-fic' subgenre, but you'll just have to suffer through this one too, because my brain wouldn't let go of this idea even though I know there's no way it actually goes down like this.**

 **(*Even more awesome in the newest promo, which I only saw after writing a good chunk of this fic. So the fact that it looks like they're in a bedroom, welp, I guess that means a whole other range of possibilities for what that scene starts as and where that scene goes… But I figured I'd finish this anyway.)**

* * *

Hand poised on his gun, ready to pull it out if at all necessary, Wyatt pushes the door further open. There, across the room, hunched over a small desk with a fireplace flickering behind her, is Lucy, alongside another woman that he vaguely remembers as someone greeting the guests downstairs. Some actress or something – he can't recall all the names Lucy had rattled off when they'd arrived. Though they're leaning over and he can't see Lucy's face just yet, he's relieved to see that she doesn't appear frightened or tense or anything else that would suggest she's in there against her will. Banking on that, he makes himself known, knocking softly on the open door. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Both dark heads pop up in perfect sync and Wyatt can't help but be struck by how similar – and stunning – the two women look. The glossy hair, darkest of rich dark browns, in pinned-back curls falling to their shoulders, the ruby red lips… Still, he couldn't help but think that, for however lovely as this actress is, he far prefers Lucy's warm brown gaze looking up at him to the cool, melancholy, gray one next to her.

The woman straightens up before Lucy does, flashing him a polite smile. "Oh, no," she assures him, with some sort of soft lilting accent to her English, then turns to Lucy, adding, "I should get back to my guests. It was lovely to meet you, Lucy."

Wyatt gives her a courteous nod as she exits, but quickly turns his focus back to Lucy. She doesn't seem to be making a move toward the door, still running her fingers over whatever the papers were that they had been looking at on the desk and looking rather melancholy herself. "Everything okay?" he ventures, heading across the room to her.

Lucy completely ignores his question. "Hedy Lamarr," she says instead, nodding in the direction of the door with a wan smile. "Did you know she was an inventor?" she murmurs, dropping her gaze back down to the papers on the desk.

That catches Wyatt off-guard. "Isn't she an actress?"

"And an inventor," Lucy informs him. "Rufus probably knows better. Or maybe you do," she amends, shrugging, "it's military stuff – but she came up with some idea for encrypted communication with submarine missiles. That's why we were here." With a nod, she gestures down to the paperwork in front of her, continuing, "I asked her about it and she wanted to show me her ideas. It's the same thing that's still used for Wi-Fi and Bluetooth. And GPS. She started working on it last year. It gets patented next summer."

Wyatt just shakes his head a little; how Lucy managed to _always_ know all of this random stuff, no matter what time they ended up in, he would never know, but it was always damn impressive. But… He frowns. Wait. He couldn't be the only one surprised that she knew that. "And you asked her about it? She didn't think it was weird that you knew?"

"A little," Lucky acknowledges, looking again in the direction the woman had gone. "She- I think she was just glad that someone asked," she shrugs.

"What do you mean?"

Lucy sighs and fixes her solemn gaze back on him. "She hated that people only cared about her looks. She's incredibly smart, and had other ideas for technology too, but no one takes her seriously. Not even as an actress," she adds, "even when she starts her own production company. Just because she filmed something with nudity and a simulated orgasm when she was a teenager."

Wyatt's pretty sure there's something else she's saying about adopting a kid and then having other kids after that, but honestly, his brain kind of short-circuits a little when the words 'nudity' and 'orgasm' come out of Lucy's mouth. It's terrible, he knows; he's letting hormones and attraction get the best of him, and really, he should be better than that, especially with Lucy, and, _fuck_ , he needs to figure out what he's going to do about these feelings he has for her. Now is not the best time for that, but damn it all if she doesn't look fucking beautiful, all sparkly gold and shimmering soft curls in the flickering light of the fireplace. And that, plus _those_ words, have his mind wandering to some dangerous places.

He musters up the willpower – from where, he's not even sure – to rein in his reaction to focus on the rest of Lucy's impromptu history lesson.

"She ended up married five or six times," Lucy continues, "but always felt alone. She gave interviews before she died, and she said that none of her husbands actually loved her. No one did. Everyone was just all about the looks. She ended up dying alone after a million plastic surgeries, always trying to be beautiful because that's all she was ever valued for." Pausing, she shrugs again, subdued. "She's fascinating; I just wanted to talk to her, ask her about her inventions – the _real_ her – like she always said she would have liked."

Wyatt looks back at the spot where Hedy had brushed past him near the door, shivering at the notion of someone that looked like her, and who could come up with military technology inventions, withering away alone. "That's… rough," he admits.

"…yeah," Lucy agrees after a beat.

But something about her voice sounds off, and Wyatt fixes his gaze back on her just in time to catch her wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye.

Wyatt has been privy to _way_ too many tears from Lucy for his liking, especially since this more recent mess with her mother, and he pretty much despises it. "Hey, you okay?" he asks, inching closer, involuntarily reaching for her until he snaps his arm back down to his side. "What?"

"Nothing," she deflects, sniffling. "It just… hits close to home."

Except a six-times-married movie star and inventor makes zero sense to Wyatt in terms of what could possibly hit home for her. "What does?" he stammers in confusion. "What you just said?"

"Not that different," Lucy challenges. "I'm just an asset to my mother, to Rittenhouse. And to Benjamin Cahill. Not a daughter. I was to my dad, but he died; so did hers. Amy's gone," she adds, her voice growing more forceful by the second. "When I didn't perform up to Stanford's standards, didn't bring them enough prestige, they gave up on me. I wasn't a person there either. Now?" She lets out a bitter laugh. "Why am I here? History knowledge? Just a government asset. And a pretty terrible excuse for one at that, all things considered. You'd be better off downloading some Wikipedia pages and bringing those instead."

It's _killing_ Wyatt to hear her talk about herself like that. Killing him that she feels that way at all, that she thinks she's not valued, killing even more so because, at least for the stuff about her family and Stanford, she's really not even wrong. "Lucy…" he tries to protest, moving closer to her.

She just deflects, shaking her head and clearing her throat. "I'm glad I got to meet her," she states with a sense of finality. "Where's Rufus? Are we waiting longer, or-"

But Wyatt isn't willing to let it be final. He can't let this conversation get left with her really thinking that about herself. "You know none of that is true," he insists quietly, cutting her off.

"Pretty much is," Lucy scoffs, rolling her eyes in his direction. "When this all ends? Unless we get Amy back, I have nothing."

"You have me," Wyatt spits out reflexively.

Lucy just snorts in response. "You and Rufus _have_ to deal with me right now. But-"

And she's still not getting it, and maybe he's hasn't been doing this right – hasn't been doing it right for a long time, if he's being honest with himself – and now probably isn't the time or place to be doing it either, but he just _can't_ let her go on thinking like this. "No," Wyatt protests, "you- Lucy, you are _not_ -" he shakes his head, frustrated that he can't come up with the name, and just waves in the direction of the door, "-whatever her name is."

"Forget it," she says, sounding defeated and trying to brush past him. "Let's just-"

But Wyatt reaches out for her again, this time not stopping himself. He grips her wrist gently, freezing her in place. He gives a little tug, coaxing her into facing him. When she does, he takes a deep breath, looking her right in her still-teary eyes, imploring her to hear what he's saying when he reiterates, "You have _me_."

At least now she's paying attention, because she's staring at him, eyes wide, gaping, but she's not saying anything, and good _lord_ , he's screwing this up so royally, isn't he?

Wyatt does his best to salvage the moment, stammering, "I- I'm..." Christ, it's been a long time since he's said anything like this to anyone, and this is _not_ how or when he'd envisioned this going down with Lucy, but she's still staring at him like she has _no_ idea what in the hell is going on, so he has to just get the rest out. So he does. "…falling in love with you. If you want me, you've got me. And honestly," he adds, without even thinking about it, because he knows how very true it is as he says it, "even if you don't, I'm still not going anywhere."

And suddenly, it's like the weight of the freaking world has been lifted off his shoulders, and he is so damned relieved to have finally admitted that to her. And he wants to be excited, but, god, she's just standing there and staring and looking completely shell-shocked, like she has _no_ earthly clue what's going on.

Which he can't really blame her for considering the bomb he'd just dropped on her pretty much out of nowhere.

But she's still not reacting, and his heart is racing and now he's just starting to think it was all a terrible mistake and that he's going to have to just smile and laugh it off like some big joke.

The next thing Wyatt knows, he's got Lucy in his arms. Honestly, he's not even sure how she got there because he'd certainly been too terrified by her non-reaction to do anything that would have resulted in that, but her arms are tight around his neck, he's got his hands in her hair and low on her back, and she's kissing him like he never dared imagine that she would. He can't help but hold her even tighter as she arches against him, and he thinks he might be dying just a little when she opens her mouth to him and he sweeps his tongue over hers for the first time.

Wyatt would have been content to just never let go of her, but it's Lucy who breaks the kiss to hug him impossibly tighter and press her face to his shoulder. Which he's also fine with, or at least he is until he hears her sniffle again and feels the damp chill of tears through the thin material of his dress shirt.

Desperately hoping they're at least happy tears this time, he turns and presses a kiss to her head, murmuring, "Don't ever doubt that you have me."

Lucy finally relinquishes the hold she's had on his neck and leans back away from him. Her eyes are red, her cheeks have damp streaks down them, but her lips are shiny and kiss-swollen, and she's never looked more beautiful to him. Especially when she takes a deep breath and says simply, "I love you."

Now Wyatt's the one fighting off the tears gathering in his eyes, because, for all he'd managed to admit, hearing it was another thing entirely when he'd resigned himself years ago to never be on the receiving (or giving…) end of those words again. "I love _you_ ," he manages, lifting his hands to frame her face. He wipes at the tear tracks with his thumbs, adding with a watery grin, "And don't ever get plastic surgery."

He's rewarded with a giggle from Lucy, and he can't help himself – he pulls her closer again, brushing her lips with his, then tugging on her bottom lip until she opens up to him.

"Jeez, I've been looking for your guys everywh-"

Wyatt jerks his head away from Lucy's just in time to see Rufus whirling around in the doorway, muttering, "And I will just go right back where I came from."

Chuckling, Wyatt calls after him, "Rufus, it's okay, you can come back." He loosens his hold on Lucy, but she doesn't go far, leaning against his side as his hand skims her waist.

Rufus tentatively peers into the room a few seconds later. "Emma left; they probably went back to the Mothership," he informs them, still eyeing them skeptically. "We can get out of here."

Wyatt's grateful for that news for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that he and Lucy at the very least should probably talk about what just happened in this room, and, if they're lucky, do a bit more than just talking. So he's certainly not about to complain about returning to their own time. He lets his hand drop from her waist, but slips it into her palm to lead her across the room.

Rufus just stands there though, a dubious eye still trained on them. "And if this is a thing," he cautions, just before they reach him in the door way. "I'm happy for you, but none of that when there's an audience. Especially when _I'm_ the audience."

Wyatt laughs and squeezes Lucy's hand, but stays silent otherwise; he's not making any promises.

 **~FIN~**


End file.
